


Paradigm Shift

by Fanforthefics (StormDancer)



Series: Hockey Tumblr Oneshots [11]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M, Miscommunication
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2019-06-07 10:29:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15217190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StormDancer/pseuds/Fanforthefics
Summary: “You’re sorry?” Sid snaps, without preamble. “What the fuck, Geno?”





	Paradigm Shift

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt: things you said after you kissed me. 
> 
> Don't know anything about anyone, these aren't real people, don't own rights to anything, etc etc. Enjoy!

It’s not hard to find Geno. After this long, Sid knows his schedule, knows where to find him on basically any day he’s at the rink. So he knows when Geno will be working out, and he knows when he’ll be alone there–he only warned a few people away; he’s pretty sure the rumor went out after that that the Captain and his A needed to Talk–and it’s easy enough to wait until Geno will be stretching and so not focused on cardio, walk in, and slam the door closed. 

Geno jumps a little, sits up straight from where he’s stretching on the mats. Sid’s too mad to even be distracted by  _that_ , which says something about how mad he is, that Sid focuses in on the signs of what this fight is going to be instead of his ass. Geno looks shocked but not surprised, wary like he knew this was coming, before it closes into something sulky and stubborn. Sid knows that look well enough too. He’s fought it away enough. 

“You’re sorry?” he snaps, without preamble. “What the fuck, Geno?” 

Like he’d thought, starting on the offensive jolts Geno–their fights, off the ice, usually start with Geno pushing too hard and Sid on the defensive pushing back. Geno likes to take the offensive. Sid’s not letting him this time. 

“Not know what you mean,” Geno replies, his jaw clenched.

“Like fuck you don’t.” Sid crosses his arms, glares Geno down like they’re on opposite ends of a faceoff dot. “That’s what you said, right? What the hell does that mean?” 

“I’m think you the one who knows English,” Geno retorts. Sid’s eyes narrow.  Sid and Geno have spoken the same language long before Geno learned English. Fine. Sid can do that. 

“Okay then, what does it mean in Russia when someone kisses someone else, then says ‘I’m sorry’?” It scrapes in his throat coming out. He’s been turning the words over for the last 36 hours, since the mistletoe and their teammates joking cheers and Geno’s big hand cradling his face and his lips against Sid’s, like a breath and a prayer. Since Sid’s eyes opened to Geno looking at him with an expression a decade of playing together couldn’t teach him, and the whispered, “I’m sorry,” before he swept himself away into the party. 

What did it mean? That he was sorry that their teammates had forced them into this? That he was sorry he’d been eating onions? That he was sorry he’d pushed Geno out of the platonic box Sid had put him in in his head and now Sid didn’t know how he’d get him back in?

Two sleepless nights had been enough. Sid wasn’t going to let this compromise anything on the ice. 

“And then,” Sid adds, because Geno’s making the face he gets when a reporter’s asked a question he doesn’t want to answer, “When that person disappears for two days, doesn’t answer any of my texts, and generally acts like an ass?” 

“I’m not!” Geno protests, like Sid thought he would, surging to his feet. “I’m not–I’m give you space!” 

“By ignoring my texts? What if they were important, G, and you’d missed–” Geno’s flushing, and Sid nods, satisfied if hurt. “So you did read them, then. You just ignored them. That’s not being a dick?” 

“It’s not,” Geno retorts. “Called taking care of self, thought you very into that, have to focus on own mental health–”

“And I’m so bad for your mental health?” 

“Yes!” 

It rocks Sid back. It hurts more than the scrape of the ‘I’m sorry’. Then all those unanswered texts. Then any number of trades that he thought would break his heart. 

He nods, sharp, and rolls his shoulders back. “Okay then.” He swallows. He’s still the captain of this team. “I’ll give you space, then. I hope we can find a way to still work together.” He turns to open the door again–to go home, probably, and work out until it’s really irresponsible to keep going, to skate loops at home until there’s nothing left but the ice, except Geno is the ice too, so tied together in his head. Maybe he’ll got to Tanger, play with Alex and use the child laughter to drive out the way he’s cracking, and–

“Sid.” There’s a hand on his shoulder, stopping him. Trying to make him turn around. “ _Sid.”_

 _“_ I got what you meant. I’m giving you what you wanted.” 

“No, you didn’t. Is not…” Geno trails off, but his hand is solid on Sid’s shoulder. Like it had been on his face, two days ago. Like it always was against his fist, before a game. Sid doesn’t pull away, but he doesn’t let Geno turn him either. “I’m not mean, not like you.” 

“Could’ve fooled me,” Sid mutters. Geno ignores him. 

“I’m just mean…couldn’t face you. Not yet. Not after…” 

“You kissed me?” Sid fills in, and he can’t help it, he turns. Geno’s shoulders are pulled in, and he looks smaller than usual. It looks wrong. Geno should always be himself, too big for his body. Even when Sid’s mad and hurt he knows that. “You’ve kissed other teammates before and you didn’t avoid them for two days. I checked.” 

Geno’s lips twitch. “Of course you do,” he says, almost to himself, but in the fond tone Sid’s used to hearing from Geno. Has that all been a lie too? 

“So what’s different about me?” Sid demands. “You didn’t apologize to them either.” 

“Is not–not kissing you. Not just kissing you.” Geno’s red now, and he looks down, at his feet. “I’m think–but guess I’m wrong, maybe–think you know. Not want to face you, when you know I’m take advantage. Push luck.” 

“Take advantage? You didn’t–”

“I’m…use opportunity. I shouldn’t have, I know. Should have walked away. But–” Geno runs a hand back through his hair. He still won’t look at Sid. “Wanted to know. Just try, once. Seem like good idea at time.” 

It shouldn’t make sense. But Sid’s been fluent in Geno for a long time, and the hurt twists and changes. “G…” 

“I know you don’t want it.” Geno swallows. “Me. That fine. Really. Just–I need space.” The hand not still on Sid’s shoulder comes up, almost instinctively, to touch his lips, like he’s remembering what Sid’s lips felt like on his. “Just little bit. Until I–”

“G.” Sid wraps one hand around the wrist at his shoulder, then reaches up with the other, to where Geno’s hand’s at his mouth. He can feel Geno’s pulse rabbit quick in both of them. “What did you think I know?” 

Geno draws up his eyes. He clearly doesn’t have the words for it. Sid doesn’t need them. Had he always looked at Sid like this, and Sid had put Geno so squarely in his box he didn’t notice? Had he hidden it, so Sid wasn’t as fluent in Geno as he thought? But that was an issue for another day, because today Geno was looking at Sid in a way that warmed him straight through. 

“Oh.” Sid’s hands tighten on Geno’s wrists. “I didn’t–you do?” Geno raises an eyebrow. “Oh,” Sid says again, still stunned. “I’m sorry.” It comes out instinctively, but Geno flinches, and only doesn’t pull away because Sid’s still holding on. “No! I meant–I’m sorry you got hurt.” 

Geno’s chin comes up. “Can save pity, Sid. Be in love with you, it not hurt–”

“Say it again.” 

“What?” Geno’s brows come together. “That not right? Save pity–”

“Not that part.” Sid’s turning the words over in his brain, letting them slot into place. Okay. Of course. He’s missed things. but he can adapt. Change the play. This is what’s going to win, he can feel it. “The next bit.” 

Geno speaks Sid as well as Sid speaks Geno, and his eyes go wide, and there’s a flash of hope, quickly smothered, across his face. “Sid, don’t–if you don’t mean–”

“Say it, Geno.” Sid meets his eyes, and doesn’t look away. 

“You don’t feel the same,” Geno tells him, sure. Sid shrugs. 

“Not yet,” he admits. “I didn’t know it was a possibility. But I could.” He lets himself smile, a challenge. “I thought you wanted to try it.” 

Geno’s lips start to curl, incredulous and gorgeous. “Yeah?” 

Sid’s had enough of this talking around it. “Yeah,” he says, and tugs Geno close to kiss him. 

Geno’s not startled for a second; he’s read Sid’s play. It’s–the kiss before had been almost perfunctory, for Sid at least, chaste enough for their friends. This was not. This was tongue and teeth and both of them sinking into it until Sid’s whole world had focused down to this one spot. 

Eventually, they break apart, though Sid keeps a hand curled around Geno’s neck to keep him from going far. He’s got that expression on again, hope like he’s not sure he’s allowed it. 

“I’m not sorry,” Sid tells him, and Geno’s still laughing as he tugs Sid back in. 

**Author's Note:**

> Liked it? Want to talk about it? Comment or come chat on [ tumblr!](http://fanforthefics.tumblr.com/)


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